Arthur had fallen asleep as he always did whenever he found himself on a quest in the woods: on the ground, arms crossed against the cold, and right next to Merlin.

Normally, the two slept back-to-back, because if they were going to huddle together to fend off the harsh winter weather, that was the best (or perhaps the better term would be 'manliest') way to do so. And normally, Arthur slept perfectly still, still as a statue save for the soft rise and fall of his armor. However, tonight was not a normal night.

Merlin always fell asleep an hour or two after Arthur. The prince had the uncanny ability to just drop asleep like a rock into water wherever he was. Unfortunately, Merlin's mind didn't quiet down quite as easily. He constantly had a million and thirteen things running through his head, unspoken and unanswered questions about the future, all the unspoken and unanswered events of the past. He could hardly ever find solace from the fanatically racing images, words, and frustrations that pounded at his head every waking—and unconscious, for that matter—moment. But tonight was not a normal night.

Instead of resting on his side with Arthur's chainmaille digging into his back, eyes closed and begging for sleep to catch his spastic mind and give him a few hours peace, he lie on his back, staring at the stars. They seemed brighter tonight than the ones before, casting the trees in a beautiful pale light. Merlin evened out his breathing, letting his heartbeat slow down, matching the thrum of life around him. His magic was always heightened out in nature, where living things thrived and shared their life force with all other creatures. That, added with the fact that the very reason why he had magic in the first place was lying next to him, open and vulnerable in his slumber, put his magic at a high. He loved it. Feeling a part of something greater. That way his destiny didn't seem so large, for if he himself was not an independent creature, but simply stretched out along a line of a infinite circle of life, why should his destiny weigh on him so?

Merlin couldn't help but smile in just the slightest way. As if in answer to his smile, a warm pleasant breeze—so out of place in the winter weather—, like someone laying a warmed blanket across you in the middle of a bitter night, made the leaves turn this way and that, making beautiful rustling music and a dazzling show of pale light.

Arthur shifted. Merlin's eyes flitted to the stronger man next to him, and the wind died away. The prince now faced him, still asleep. Merlin had always heard of how people looked peaceful when they slept, but Arthur looked more than peaceful. Every muscle in his body was relaxed; his eyebrows not pulled together, his shoulders not raised and tensed with the weight of his responsibility, his lips softly curved without strain. The starlight that danced through the twirling leaves created beautiful patterns on the prince's face. Merlin couldn't help but think that, in that moment, Arthur was no longer of the earth. He seemed completely ethereal.

With his magic coursing through him and in his strange half-asleep state of mind, Merlin suddenly panicked. Arthur was disappearing. He was going away, drifting, being claimed by the gods back to where he belonged, in Heaven. But Merlin didn't want him to go. He didn't want to be left behind, stranded alone without his other half.

Slowly, as in in a dream, Merlin's hand found its way the rest onto Arthur's cheek. His long fingers stretched behind the prince's ear, going into the blonde, soft locks of hair. His face was cold, but it was there. Not going away. Forever real and present.

Arthur's face changed. It didn't go back to the strained and stressed expression it was in too often, but became even softer, lighter, more pleasant. His lips began to stretch, into the smallest of smiles. Merlin smiled a small smile back, his thumb lightly brushing over Arthur's skin, tracing the curve of the bottom of his eye.

"Merlin," Arthur whispered, his voice barely there. Then his vibrant eyes opened, locking onto Merlin's. For the briefest second, his face retained that same pleasant expression of what could only be described as admiration. Then it suddenly changed. His brows pulled together, his face hardened, and Merlin's heart dropped. "Merlin," Arthur said, his voice deceptively thin, the way he spoke whenever Merlin was about to get something thrown at his head.

Merlin's hand had seemed to freeze on Arthur's face. Because, obviously, if he stayed absolutely still, Arthur wouldn't notice the line he had just crossed. "Yeah?"

"What the hell are you doing?"

Merlin wiped his hand across Arthur's face now, plastering on a fake smile. "There was a leaf. It fell on your face. I was brushing it off. You're welcome."

Arthur wasn't convinced. "I was facing that way, too," he said, his finger lifting slightly.

"You rolled over."

"You were facing that way," Arthur continued, his finger pointing behind Merlin now.

"People roll over in their sleep. It happens."

"You were awake to brush that leaf off my face," Arthur said, trapping Merlin.

"Yeah," Merlin said. "I was just..." he trailed off, knowing there was no way out of this.

"Just what?" Arthur prodded.

"Mmm..." Merlin hummed, trying to buy time.

"Just don't do it again, alright?"

"Yeah, no problem."

Arthur gave him one of those 'you are the strangest person I've ever met' looks and turned back over, crossing his arms and falling back asleep.

Merlin could only smirk and roll over himself, inching back until his shoulders were pressed against Arthur's, and he allowed himself to drift asleep to the rhythm of Arthur's breathing.

.

Arthur had this theory that the gods liked to make a comedy out of his life.

He did have Merlin for a manservant, after all.

But the following morning, he woke up before Merlin did, and when he sat up, pulling his gloves off to rub the sleep from his eyes and letting the new sun thaw the chill from the night before, he looked over at his servant and saw that the man had a damn leaf on his cheek.

He just brushed it off of Merlin's face. That was all. And if his hand traced the pronounced outline of Merlin's cheekbones, or if his fingers fell through his thick hair, it was completely coincidental. He wasn't stealing the moment to just be able to truly see Merlin, without the worry of his servant catching his gaze or someone else seeing how much he cared for the scrawny boy in his eyes. Nope. It was completely innocent. He just didn't like his servants to look like they had just grown out of the ground was all.

"Arthur...?" Merlin said quietly, catching Arthur as his thumb was resting on the sensitive skin behind Merlin's ridiculously pronounced ears, his fingers locked in his hair, placed at the top of his neck. He was looking up at the prince out of the corner of his eye and smirking at him. That bastard.

"Merlin, I swear by the gods—"

"A leaf, right?"

"It was just sitting there—"

"Uh huh."

"I am the prince and I will not be made out to be a fool by my servant," Arthur said defiantly, but his hand hadn't moved.

"Your the one with your hand in my hair," Merlin shrugged. "But if you would like to continue, be my guest, /sire/." He shut his eyes, feigning unconsciousness, but that stupid smirk was still on his face.

Arthur gave Merlin's lips a quick smack with the back of his hand.

"Ow!" Merlin exclaimed, more out of offense than pain, but his hand still went to cover his mouth.

"Sorry," Arthur said. "Thought I saw a bug there."

"Haha," Merlin said without humor, prodding his lip, which was already getting bigger from the hit.

"Just trying to help," Arthur said, standing and brushing off stray leaves and twigs from his person. He gave Merlin a sarcastic smile and turned to go to his horse, but not before Merlin managed to get a good kick at the prince's bum.

Arthur froze, his fingers balling up into fists. "Merlin?"

"Yes, sire?"

"Run."